<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Mistletoe by Beckers522</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28279683">Mistletoe</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beckers522/pseuds/Beckers522'>Beckers522</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>15th Century, Angels, Christmas, Demons, England (Country), First Kiss, Historical, M/M, Mistletoe, The Arrangement (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 22:36:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,199</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28279683</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beckers522/pseuds/Beckers522</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"In hindsight, Crowley really should have looked above the door before he walked into Lord Belfrey’s manor. There were superstitious people all around, and it was impossible to tell when one of them might actually take it upon themselves to do something about those ridiculous beliefs. If he were smart, Crowley would be checking every doorway he walked through each and every day. But it was Christmas Eve. The sky was thick with snow-laden clouds, temperature growing colder by the minute, and the demon hadn’t wanted to be outside a second longer than he absolutely had to.</p><p>His impatience had ultimately been his downfall."</p><p>Aziraphale finds Crowley trapped under some mistletoe one Christmas Eve. Theres only one way the demon can be freed.</p><p>Art by anti-social-principality</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>99</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>AntiChrist-mas Zine Collection</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Mistletoe</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>A.D. 1423 - England</b>
  <b><br/>
</b>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>In hindsight, Crowley really should have looked above the door before he walked into Lord Belfrey’s manor. There were superstitious people all around, and it was impossible to tell when one of them might actually take it upon themselves to do something about those ridiculous beliefs. If he were smart, Crowley would be checking every doorway he walked through each and every day. But it was Christmas Eve. The sky was thick with snow-laden clouds, temperature growing colder by the minute, and the demon hadn’t wanted to be outside a second longer than he absolutely had to.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>His impatience had ultimately been his downfall.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>In his hurry, he had failed to properly scout where he was going, and he had gotten himself trapped in the front entrance. Feet unable to move from beneath the horrid, demon-imprisoning green plant that hung in the stone archway above him. It looked so innocent up there, all bunched together with its bright green stems and tiny white buds. This bouquet had even been brought together with a decorative red bow, which may look pretty to the human eye, but made it no less annoying to the demon currently standing below.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>Crowley was trapped, almost as if he were welded to the floor - completely at the mercy of the humans nearby. Waiting with bated breath until one of them realized exactly what atrocity had wormed its way into their midst and decided to end him, right then and there.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>What a bloody fantastic Christmas this was going to be.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Crowley?” The sound of the familiar voice caused the demon’s heartbeat to quicken. Slowly, so as not to seem too eager, Crowley turned his head to look down at the angel through dark glass spectacles as he made his way up the cobblestone drive. He was dressed in black tights and pointed shoes, paired with a brilliant red and gold embroidered tunic, much more vibrant than the cream clothes the angel usually chose to wear. The color reminded Crowley of festive poinsettias or the berries on a holly bush, and to the demon’s surprise, actually suited his heavenly companion. It was the perfect attire for such an occasion.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Aziraphale!” Crowley greeted warmly, genuinely happy to see the angel, even if he was rather embarrassed by the mess he’d gotten himself into. “Fancy seeing you here.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>The angel paused for a moment, eyes narrowing as he looked Crowley up and down. “What are you doing here?” Aziraphale asked suspiciously. The demon had to hold back a grin. It was refreshing how the angel never seemed to change, no matter what age they found themselves in. Always expecting him to be up to no good. “Plotting some dastardly deed, I suppose.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>Crowley let the grin slip through, holding up his hands in surrender. “No plotting here, Aziraphale. It’s Christmas. I’ve taken the night off. Peace and goodwill and all that.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Well,” Aziraphale responded, a breath of relief escaping from his lips, filling the cold air around him with a puff of white mist. He offered up a gentle smile that made Crowley’s stomach twist in a way that was not entirely unpleasant. “While we’re here, would you care to accompany me inside? I heard they’re serving a roast turkey as the main course. And marzipan cake for dessert. How scrumptious!”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>Aziraphale practically wiggled in excitement at this thought, corners of his deep blue eyes scrunching in pure delight. It was enough to make Crowley’s shriveled heart fill with a fondness he should very well </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> be able to feel. Especially not for an angel, at any rate. Forcing himself to look away, the demon mumbled something softly under his breath, knowing very well that Aziraphale wouldn’t be able to hear him.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Sorry, my dear” Aziraphale began, just as Crowley knew he would. The demon watched as his counterpart brought his hands up in front of him, rubbing them together to ward off some of the cold. “I didn’t quite catch that.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>Crowley let out a huge sigh, watching as the warmth of his breath created a translucent fog that billowed around Aziraphale’s form, curling up and over his shoulders before disappearing into the cold winter’s night. “I said,” the demon admitted, trying desperately not to let any additional color into his cheeks. “I’d love to come with you, Aziraphale. But I’m afraid I can’t at the moment. I’m stuck.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>The angel’s blue eyes flickered up and down, obviously looking for the evidence to support Crowley’s claim. When he found none, his brow furrowed in concentration, likely trying to figure out what the punchline of the joke was.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>He half expected Aziraphale to ask him to clarify, or simply ignore him and walk on into the house. There was nothing keeping the angel here with Crowley, out in the cold December night. No reason for him to stay and nothing he could do if Crowley ever did admit to him what had happened. It made perfect sense for Aziraphale to write him off and go enjoy his roast turkey and marzipan cake. If the roles were reversed, and this had been an interaction with any angel other than Aziraphale, Crowley would have done the same thing.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>Instead, the angel took a few steps up the stairs until he was standing right in front of Crowley. The demon felt his breath catch in his throat at the proximity. Years went by between each of their meetings, and even when they did meet, they had to be careful that no one from upstairs or downstairs was watching. Out of both of them, Aziraphale was always the more cautious of the two, and yet here he was. Standing no more than a foot away from Crowley. Close enough the demon could reach out and touch him, if he wanted to. If he wasn’t afraid of scaring the angel off.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Whatever is the matter, Crowley?” Aziraphale asked with such tenderness in his eyes that the demon was forced to look away. He couldn’t face this. Not now. If he admitted what had happened, it would just be further proof for Aziraphale to use every time he got uncomfortable with their tentative friendship. Proof that Crowley was </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span>, that he was a demon - a fiend - something that didn’t belong here. Something that wasn’t welcome. “It’s Christmas Eve and you look as though the world is about to end.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>Crowley sighed again, deep and slow, as he gathered the courage to look back up at Aziraphale’s face.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span> “I didn’t see the mistletoe.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>Blue eyes widened a fraction of an inch before the angel glanced up. Sure enough, hanging from the stone archway above them, less than three feet from the front door, was a bunch of mistletoe, complete with that blasted, festive red bow.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Oh, goodness,” Aziraphale murmured, knowing exactly what that tiny plant hanging high above the demon meant. “Crowley, dear. I’m so sorry.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>The demon shrugged, rubbing his hands together to try and gather some feeling back into his fingertips. He shifted his gaze to a handsome couple passing by, willing them not to hear the conversation that was currently taking place between angel and demon on the doorstep of the Lord’s manor.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“‘S fine, Aziraphale. Someone will figure me out sooner or later. There will be some screaming for a bit before one of them has the good sense to run me through with a sword.” He paused. “Or maybe they’ll decapitate me instead.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>The angel grimaced, and for a moment, Crowley could convince himself it was because Aziraphale didn’t want to see anything so gruesome happen to him, even if his death was only temporary. For a moment, Crowley could convince himself that Aziraphale actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>cared</span>
  </em>
  <span> about him, even just a little bit.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Whatever they do,” the demon continued when his counterpart said nothing. “I hope they do it quickly. It’s getting bloody freezing out here, and I’d really like to get a head-start on all that paperwork.” He grimaced at the thought, just imagining what Lord Beelzebub would put him through once he arrived back in Hell without a body attached to him. “At the rate things are going now, it would be a miracle if I made it back up here by Midsummer.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“That long?” Aziraphale asked softly, but he wasn’t looking at Crowley’s face anymore. Nor was he looking at the mistletoe hanging above them. The angel was gazing down at Crowley’s hands, watching as his fingertips slowly began to turn blue from the frigid temperatures outside.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>Again, all Crowley could do was shrug, gritting his teeth as his frozen hands began to burn. He hoped someone would notice him trapped here soon and put him out of his misery. The thought of freezing to death seemed like one of the worst ways to go. Beelzebub and the others would never let him hear the end of it, that was for sure. He’d lose every ounce of reputation he’d managed to gather these last five thousand years. Every morsel of respect for what he’d done in Eden and every humanity-devised event he’d managed to claim credit for would be forgotten instantly in the wake of something so pathetic.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Crowley…” The demon looked up at the sound of his name. His amber eyes widened as Aziraphale took another step closer. What was the angel doing? Most of the guests were inside already, but certainly there would be a few stragglers. If he got much closer, they were sure to attract attention. And although attention was what Crowley would eventually need to get himself out of this mess, having Aziraphale caught up in everything was the last thing that the demon wanted.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“I think I know a way I may be able to help.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>Before Crowley could utter a single word, Aziraphale reached a hand forward, fingers wrapping delicately over the thin wire frames of his glasses. He removed them slowly, as if silently seeking permission, blue eyes as deep as an ocean, pulling Crowley in and threatening to drown him completely. Serpentine eyes flicked downward, watching as the angel silently folded the glasses, placing them carefully in one hand as the other reached forward tentatively, as if Crowley might pull away.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>He did not. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>Then, so slowly, and yet so suddenly the demon barely had a chance to react, Aziraphale leaned in and planted his lips gently on the demon’s, blue eyes fluttering shut, blocking out everything else around them.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>The result was instantaneous. Warmth filled Crowley’s entire being, covering every inch of him from head to toe. He felt the comfort of Aziraphale’s lips pressed against his own. The pain in his hands vanished as the soft presence of  the angel’s hands appeared against his, wrapping around them, drawing them close to his chest. A fire came to life within Crowley, burning away the cold from every molecule in his body. He could see it in his mind’s eye - a bright white light filling him to the brim with a warmth unlike any he had ever known.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>Finally, Aziraphale pulled away and Crowley opened his eyes, not realizing he had even closed them. He looked down at the angel’s round cheeks, tinted red from the cold or from what they had just done, he did not know.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Just a little Christmas Miracle,” the angel before him explained, still clutching Crowley’s hands tightly against his chest. “It didn’t seem in the spirit of things to abandon you in such a predicament.” Suddenly, Aziraphale’s blue eyes widened as they flickered across Crowley’s face, looking for a sign that something had gone wrong. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“No, not at all,” the demon breathed, his mind still preoccupied with the tingling feeling on his lips and the sensation that had returned to his fingers and toes. He was free. Aziraphale’s miracle had been enough to break the mistletoe’s hold on him. There would be no discorporation tonight. No unintended return to Hell. No mountain of paperwork to fill out. He was going to be alright.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>The words ‘Thank you’ bubbled up inside him, lodging themselves in his throat as he opened his mouth to speak. He couldn’t very well go about thanking angels, could he? What would downstairs think, if they got wind of this?</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>So, instead of thanking his companion, Crowley did the next best thing. “Mighty noble of you, showing up here tonight to lend a hand.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Of course, dear boy,” the angel responded with a smile as he tugged on the demon’s no-longer-frozen hand and led Crowley into the manor. “We have an Arrangement, after all.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>The demon blinked, amber eyes wide.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“We do?” Was it possible that the angel could hear his heartbeat from where he stood? It was thrumming impossibly loud in Crowley’s own ears, blocking out nearly every other sound around him. How could a heart beat this quickly and still keep his corporation alive? Surely, he was mere moments away from discorporating himself. He had to be.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>Aziraphale turned around and fixed Crowley with such a bright smile the demon momentarily forgot to breath. Luckily enough for him, he didn’t need to.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“We do now, my dear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey everyone! Sorry I've been quiet recently. I'm struggling a bit with my mental health and needed to step away from writing Good Omens fics for a bit. This is one of three fics I wrote for the Antichrist-mas Zine, and now that it is officially Christmas Eve, I can now share them with you.</p><p>Each one includes an illustration that will be posted in the fic and linked on Instagram once the artist makes their work public. If you can't see it right away, check back in a few days and hopefully I'll have something for you by then.</p><p>If you liked what you read, feel free to leave kudos or a comment. I could really use the encouragement right about now.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>